FOG; HOMEWORK FOR INK WELL WRITERS’ GROUP

Ghostly figure floats through the back streets of Victorian London
Is it a SHE, a HE, or a THING?
Where is this apparition going in the dense fog; I wonder?
It’s the black of night – no birdsong – no sunrise
Tall grey buildings standing proud, our ancient history evident
The Apex is shrouded in liquid water droplets, cut-off like a body in half
Cold and eerie; quite eerie
This mythical creature is neither good nor evil
Or, is it human?
A shadow falls across its borrowed face
Smokeless, but scorching fire from its lips
I am a voyeur watching the Djinni from my prison
Modern London in the 21st century still bears the scars of nature’s ice crystals

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